


Blueprints

by neveralarch



Series: Banners from the Turrets [16]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Large Cock, M/M, Medical Procedures, but robots, extremely messy threesomes, frame reformat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Starscream wants to be smaller. Pharma's happy to help with that, especially if it'll make Rung happy in turn.
Relationships: Pharma/Rung (Transformers), Pharma/Starscream/Rung (Transformers), background Megatron/Rung/Starscream
Series: Banners from the Turrets [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265390
Comments: 29
Kudos: 101





	Blueprints

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Pharma hours in the Banners from the Turrets AU! I'm sure this will work out fine.
> 
> This fic contains lightly discussed dysphoria, consensual frame modification, and largely consensual sex that has a lot of dubious elements to it (nonconsensual recording, doctor/patient, obsessiveness, just Pharma generally). Please let me know if you need any details before reading.

Starscream hadn't entirely got a handle on this whole metamour thing, even though Rung had explained it _very_ carefully back when he first wanted to frag other people and for some reason thought he needed permission to do it. Rung was dating Pharma, but Pharma wasn't Rung's _lover_ , that was Starscream's job. And Pharma certainly wasn't a serious commitment like Megatron. Fuckbuddy, that's what he was, but Starscream knew if he said that out loud Rung would look disappointed and Pharma would go feral. Pharma considered himself a much higher class of aft than Flatline or any of Rung’s other one- (or several-) night stands. 

Whatever. The metamour thing was still weird. Back before the war, when your lover had a sidepiece he kept that to himself. You certainly didn't _hang out_ with each other.

But sometimes Pharma would take Starscream's arm, if they were out as a group, Rung chattering away at Megatron and Pharma trailing behind, his optics locked on the back of Rung's helm. Sometimes they interfaced too, although again only if Rung was there so Pharma could stare at him. Starscream might find the obsessiveness a little creepy, but Rung _was_ special. And there was something about Starscream's wings jostling against another flyer's that felt right in the back of his helm. 

Starscream didn't like that. It felt uncomfortably like 'trine cravings,' which were obviously made up by grounders with dirty processors.

The important thing was that having arguably the best surgeon in the world as your dating-partner-in-law or whatever meant that Starscream had an _opportunity_.

"Yes," said Pharma consideringly, running his fingers down Starscream's side. "I can take out this plating and this, here, yes. Do you want to be shorter? I can make you shorter."

Starscream's desires warred with each other. "Can you make me shorter but still intimidating?"

"Oh, Senator," said Pharma, and now his fingers were on Starscream's chin. "I can make you anything you want. Cut your mass in half, bare your wires and protoform... You know, I've always thought you would be fun to... play with. I actually have some blueprints already, would you like to see?"

"I thought maybe I would tell you what to—"

"Of course you'll have final input." Pharma unearthed a datapad from a drawer and pushed it across the desk. "But this _is_ what I'm trained for. Your job is to make laws and shout at reporters, and mine is to make people better."

"I'm not _sick_ ," snapped Starscream. "This is a cosmetic surgery only, do you understand?"

"Of course," repeated Pharma, though he had the temerity the _look_ Starscream as he did so. He turned the datapad on.

The figure, 3D modeled and fully poseable, was unmistakably Starscream. But smaller, slighter, his wings reduced to transparent sheets and the struts of his arms and shoulders almost entirely unarmored. Starscream _wanted_ that.

"Yes?" asked Pharma.

"It's acceptable," said Starscream. He had to freeze his actuators to keep his hand from reaching out to touch.

"Any changes you'd like to make?" asked Pharma.

"You're the doctor." Starscream sneered. "You don't think your plans are good enough?"

Pharma hummed and smiled to himself. "It's not a full frame transplant—I'm assuming you don't want to deal with a month of recovery? No, I thought not. So we'll simply reduce your height and mass as much as we can, given the limitations." He tapped the datapad, and the armor faded away, revealing the inner protoform. "We'll have to downsize your tank a little. Your capacity will be lower, but your efficiency will be higher so it'll even out. Move the t-cog, shrink the fans," he ticked Starscream's major organs off on his fingers. "And we'll have to reduce your array."

"What?" squawked Starscream.

Pharma gave Starscream a coy look. "Your spike _is_ a little large for your frame as it is. One would almost say obnoxiously so."

"One certainly would not!" This time Starscream let his hand slap the desk. "I need that!"

"For what?" Pharma crossed his arms. "You don't think Rung gets enough as it is?"

"That's not the point," hissed Starscream. "I said I wanted you to keep me intimidating. The spike is part and parcel of that!"

"You hardly even use it," said Pharma, which was rich from someone who didn't even enjoy being spiked unless Rung was either doing it or watching it be done.

"The point isn't to _use_ it," said Starscream. "It's a _signal_. Even if someone's fragging my valve, they have to stare at it to the whole time and know that I could be fragging all the way up into their sparkchamber, and instead I've _allowed_ them to pleasure me instead!"

Pharma frowned. "You want me to alter my plans just because of some archaic dominance games?"

"They're not archaic!" Starscream made a gesture that just happened to knock a little bundle of lightpens off the desk. "I caught Megatron looking at my spike _last week_."

"Megatron _lives_ with you, you—" Pharma caught himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a deep sigh, which Starscream didn't appreciate at all. "You want me reduce your mass my half, move all your organs around, and still keep your spike the same size? It'll fill half your torso!"

Starscream jerked his chin up. "I _thought_ you were the best surgeon on Cybertron. Maybe I should go to Ratchet?"

Pharma lashed out and caught Starscream's wrist, pinning him in place before he could even think of getting up. "Ratchet couldn't do this if he studied for a century," he snarled.

Starscream looked down at his wrist. Pharma was holding him punishingly tight, and he didn't think he could get out without snapping a few of Pharma's precisely calibrated fingers. _This_ was why you didn't mention Ratchet in Pharma's presence. In public Pharma cultivated civility, but in private…

But then the grip relaxed and Pharma's face smoothed out into amiability. "If that's really what you want, I suppose I'll see what I can do. It's your frame after all. You know, I even think there'd be something aesthetically pleasing about it. A little pretty flyer with a spike big enough to frag a titan."

"I don't know if I want it _that_ large," said Starscream.

"I'm being poetic," said Pharma, picking up a lightpen from the floor. "Just sit there for a moment, I'll make some changes. What's your schedule like today?"

"Today?" Starscream's engine revved before he could get it under control. "Don't you have patients?"

"I'll fit you in." Pharma spun the datapad back to Starscream, the changes marked out in glittering red. "Ready to meet the new you?"

\---

Starscream came out of anesthesia slowly, which wasn't a surprise. Pharma had had to give him a lot of codeblockers to stop his weapons systems from coming online every time Pharma came at him with a scalpel. Pharma didn't mind the overall effect at all. Starscream was almost sweet like this, scowling at the lights and batting at Pharma's hands as Pharma pulled him up into a sitting position.

"There you are," cooed Pharma. "Oh, aren't you beautiful?"

Predictably, Starscream perked up. "Mm?"

"Yes, beautiful," Pharma assured him. "How could you be anything else? I made you. Can you stand? I could bring the mirror to you, but I think the effect is so much better when you're upright."

Starscream slid off the medical berth and nearly fell, but he was light enough now that Pharma could just barely manage to haul him back to his feet and maneuver him to the full-length mirror. It had been difficult to pare that warframe base down to about Pharma's mass without trying a dangerous spark recalibration. Starscream's output was simply too great. But Pharma had reinforced his struts and removed all the unnecessary armor and reached the apex of form and function. The effect, quite honestly, was stunning.

"What do you think?" Pharma spread his hands over Starscream's waist and hooked his chin over Starscream's shoulder, half-supporting him. He'd managed to get Starscream down to half a head shorter than him, about average sized for most Cybertronians but certainly smaller than what they’d started out with. "Good?"

Starscream stared at himself, wide-opticked and open-mouthed. His wings flared back against Pharma, and Starscream gaped even more, flicking the wings so they caught the light. Thin sheets of blue transparisteel, still strong enough to fly for days but a third the weight of Starscream's old war-armored wings.

"Good." Pharma smiled. "Can you say thank you?"

"Nnk." Starscream struggled with his vocalizer. "Thhhh."

Good enough." Pharma patted Starscream’s cheek. "Now, my shift ended almost three hours ago. Ready to go home?"

It took some effort to tear Starscream away from the mirror, but everything was easy after that. Starscream let himself be coaxed into a transport taking them across the city, then bundled into the elevator of his apartment building. Despite Pharma's many hints, Rung hadn't yet seen fit to provide him with a key, but Starscream was aware enough by now to enter his personal code.

The apartment was empty. Rung still toiling away at his very important job, and Megatron doing whatever retired warlords did when their theater was in the middle of a production. Pharma had gone to one of the rehearsals with Rung, and found it absolutely dismal. There was a Camien chorus following the protagonist around to narrate everything that happened, completely ruining the subtlety of the script. Pharma didn't understand why modern theater was so obsessed with innovations and the colonies. What about the good old Cybertronian opera? He should show Rung one of his bootleg recordings sometime, they could bond over the odd yet endearing juxtaposition of bad film quality and exquisite music.

"Tired," mumbled Starscream.

"Yes, yes," said Pharma. He helped Starscream through the living room and into the hall. Starscream tried to stumble over to the junk closet he called a berthroom, but Pharma steered him into the main berthroom, the one with the berth large enough to fit three—or four, as the case might be. Pharma had only been allowed in here twice so far, and both times came with the high price tag of having to play nice with Megatron. In the future he intended to be a much more frequent guest. It was nice when Rung visited Pharma in his apartment, but it was so obvious that Rung didn't belong there, wasn't quite comfortable. And Pharma enjoyed being here so much, surrounded by Rung's hobbies and knickknacks and life.

The berthcovers were messily shoved into place. Pharma could imagine Rung pulling them hastily back into place this morning, his optics still fogged with sleep. Pharma turned the covers down and helped Starscream up onto the berth. There was a waft of mingled scents from the fabric, polish and wax and that undefinable essence of Rung. 

"Do you want to nap?" asked Pharma, sitting down beside Starscream. The blockers should have been fading out of Starscream's system, but he'd just had several intensive procedures and his systems were probably struggling to cope.

"Nnnnno." Starscream squirmed. "Itchy."

"Itchy like a repair is failing to integrate?" Pharma ran his hands over Starscream's arms, checking for any loose plates.

"Itchy like..." Starscream put his hand on his own modesty cover. "Itchy."

"Ah." Well, that wasn't an _unexpected_ side effect. Intensive repair integration generated a lot of charge, and frames had a standard system for dealing with charge...

"I can help with that," purred Pharma. It wasn't the same as with Rung, but he enjoyed making Starscream overload. He did it so prettily, unusual for a big bad Decepticon. Pharma thought it would be especially nice now, with Starscream so soft and open and new. "I'd like to help, if you'd let me." 

Starscream preened a little. "I look good?"

"Very good." Pharma caught Starscream's chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned him this way and that. He'd reshaped Starscream's helm a little, flattening the side vents in a way that made Starscream’s optics look larger even when they were half-dimmed. You could see Pharma's artistry in every inch of Starscream's frame.

"Everyone's going to love you," promised Pharma. "They won't be able to help it."

Starscream actually moaned, and Pharma trailed his hand down Starscream's chest to his exposed hip cabling. Pharma had seen this at the wedding, back when he was just a coworker, only beginning to glimpse the brilliance of Rung's light. Some hasty hack job to just cut away the plating without any regard for how it could be maintained. Pharma had _known_ he could do better. This time he'd carefully reinsulated the wires and created drainage points so that Starscream wouldn't develop difficult to treat rust patches. They could simply be enjoyed.

"Primus, I'm good at this," he said aloud.

"Mhmm," said Starscream, and twisted around so his head was resting on Pharma's thigh. Such a sweet little war criminal. They stayed like that for a minute or two, as Starscream's optics gradually grew brighter and Pharma slowly explored the genius of his own handiwork. Starscream's charge was more visible now that all his biolights were exposed. Pharma could actually see little wisps of static electricity running along the wires in Starscream's hips.

"I _could_ overload you just by playing with your plating, now," said Pharma. "A nice little side effect, isn't it? But we should really see if your array is in proper working condition. That was the most difficult part of the procedure, making room for that spike of yours."

"Hmm." Starscream palmed his panel again, his slim fingers catching at the raised lines of chrome that Pharma had painstakingly detailed.

Pharma might enjoy overloading Starscream, but he wasn't particularly interested in letting Starscream frag him. But it felt almost disrespectful to his art to simply jerk Starscream off, to watch that spike thicken and pulse in his surgeon's hands instead of housed in someone's body. He tapped Starscream's bottom lip consideringly.

There was a shuffle in the hall and the noise of a bag being dropped on the floor. "Hello?" called Rung. "Anyone home?"

Perfect.

"We're in your berth," said Pharma, just loud enough to be heard. "Starscream had some work done."

"What?" said Rung, his lovely calm voice suddenly riddled with alarm. There were hurried footsteps. "Pharma, Starscream didn't tell me about— _oh_."

"What do you think?" asked Pharma.

Rung skidded to a stop just a few inches away from the berth and took in Starscream's reduced form—the wings, the hips, the helm. There was a moment where his mouth twisted and Pharma thought that he might say something... not thoughtless, never thoughtless, but reproving. It was, after all, a _lot_ of work. Not just a couple pieces of plating or a pair of thruster extensions.

But then: "Gorgeous," said Rung, and Pharma could almost pretend it was meant just for his work and not for Starscream himself. Of course, there was only a small difference between the two. He shouldn’t let it bother him.

"Mmm." Starscream stretched under Pharma's hands, completely oblivious to Rung's moment of consideration. "Yes, I am."

Rung stood there looking at them for a little longer. Pharma indulged himself in looking back. Rung had such a, a _classic_ beauty. Pharma didn't know anyone else like him. It was almost as if he didn't belong in their world, where everyone was either a battle-scarred veteran, a refugee, or a confused MTO. Rung came into your life with his spark on display and his optics hidden and made you rethink everything you thought you knew.

He looked at everyone like they were important. Pharma wanted to _be_ important.

"Starscream," said Rung, and the spell shattered with the sound of another mech's name. At least Rung sounded a little annoyed. "I wish you'd _told_ me you were planning something so drastic."

"It's my frame," grumbled Starscream.

"Of course it is," soothed Rung. "It looks more like your frame than ever."

Starscream grinned and reached out his hand to touch Rung's. "Look, I'm only a little bigger than you."

That wasn’t even close to true, but neither Rung nor Pharma rushed to correct him. Their hands _were_ closer in size than they had been, Starscream's perhaps half again larger. That was as far as Pharma could safely reduce him, though he suspected Starscream wanted more. Perhaps they would look into a full frame transplant next.

"Yes, lovely," said Rung. "I only meant that I would've liked to support you, darling. I could've taken the day off work, sat with you in surgery? I sat with you the last time you had your thrusters redone. And this is so much—so much more _extensive_."

"Surgery went perfectly," said Pharma, before Starscream could say anything that might suggest that he hadn't exactly planned to redo his entire frame today. "There weren't any concerns."

"Oh, not with you in charge." Rung smiled at Pharma, and Pharma felt that wash of joyful recognition that only Rung could give him. 

"I'm fine," said Starscream, still staring at his hand pressed to Rung's. "I'm small."

“Yes.” Rung twined his fingers with Starscream's, sweetly humoring him. "Yes, you're very small."

"Not all of him." Pharma chuckled and tapped his fingers against Starscream's modesty plate. "Starscream and I were just about to test whether he's in full working order. Perhaps you'd be interested in assisting?"

Rung looked at Pharma sidelong and _oh_ , even that sent shivers down Pharma's spine. "Do I need to retrieve any medical equipment?" he asked.

"Only if you want to get kinky." Pharma dug the tips of his fingers into the seam of Starscream's panel. It popped obediently, Starscream's spike pressurizing right into Pharma's hand. Pharma startled a little, even though he _knew_ it wasn't actually any larger than it had been. What had once been only moderately outsized for Starscream's frame was now almost comically large, reaching almost midway up Starscream's torso. The juxtaposition was striking. Pharma snapped a few mental photos for his own personal collection.

"Oh my," said Rung, with a thread of breathy arousal that made Pharma want to open his chest plates to show Rung just how much it made his spark thrill.

"I know that _you'll_ appreciate what a feat this was," said Pharma, not looking away from Rung as he slid his hand loosely up and down Starscream's spike. "Preserving an array of this size and power when there's so much less space to house it." He swept his thumb over the sensitive head and Starscream whined and tried to thrust up. "I need to make sure that it works _just_ as it should."

Starscream shuddered and yanked Rung closer by their joined hands, mirroring Pharma's desire, but Rung frowned. "Starscream," he said sharply. "Give me your reasoning capacity."

"I’m fi-ine," moaned Starscream.

"The blockers wore off ages ago," said Pharma. Didn't Rung _trust_ him?

"Yes, I'm sure." Rung patted Pharma's thigh with his free hand. Pharma almost choked on his own oral lubricant. "Just humor me and give me a percentage, Starscream? It'll make me feel better."

Starscream whined, and Pharma let go of Starscream's spike with an effort that was instantly worth it when Rung patted his thigh again.

"Eighty percent," snapped Starscream, his sudden annoyed coherence suggesting that he _may_ have been playing up his daze. Pharma wouldn't put it past him. "And don't tell me that's too low, because it drops down to sixty when we do the plastic thing."

"All right," said Rung, and suddenly that horrible sheen of suspicion was gone, his glasses were tucked away into his subspace, and he was crawling onto the berth, his panel already open and his slim, delicate fingers slipping past his spike to circle the opening of his valve. He looked at Starscream's new frame with uncomplicated enjoyment and hunger at last, _Pharma's_ handiwork making Rung look that way.

Rung looked ready to ride Starscream into oblivion, but... no. That wasn't the way Pharma wanted them. He wanted his work to give Rung pleasure, not for Rung to have to take it.

Pharma caught Rung's hips just before he settled onto Starscream's spike. "Could you lie down, please? I need room to work."

"Hm?" Rung blinked at Pharma, his optics pools of blue that you could lose your entire being in. How could he have ever been a Decepticon? Surely he belonged with Pharma, a veteran of the Autobot medical corps. He could've been Pharma's resident therapist, they could've had offices next to each other and gone to the canteen together in the evenings. That’s how it should have been.

"On your back," said Pharma, and picked Rung up and set him there. Rung settled obediently, using his hands to spread his own thighs wide. His valve was dripping.

Pharma coaxed Starscream up onto his knees. "Do you see that?" he whispered in Starscream's audial.

"Hnn," said Starscream, reasoning capacity surely taking a dive.

"That's for you," whispered Pharma. "He likes your frame _that_ much, Starscream. He's wide open for you."

Starscream's fans ratcheted up soundlessly, only noticeable because of the sudden burst of warm air against Pharma's hands. Starscream's old fans had rattled and roared when he was aroused. Good thing he’d come to the best surgeon on Cybertron to have his work done. 

Starscream was straining to get out of Pharma's hands, but Pharma slipped in front of him, shouldering him back with one carefully-placed wing. "Let me ready him first," he said. "Don't fret, I'll only be a moment."

Rung's optics glittered, amused, and Pharma shared a heady moment of shared understanding. Starscream was so fun to tease, at least when he was submissive and yearning rather than fighting for dominance. Then Rung's optics shuttered as Pharma slid a finger into his valve.

Pharma didn't especially like the feeling of valves, neither his own nor anyone else’s. They were always so gooey-wet and almost unpleasantly warm. It reminded Pharma of work, of having to move your fingers just _so_ within another mech’s frame to get the right reaction, and he didn't like to work in what was supposed to be his free time. And the _smell_. Pharma didn't understand other mechs who professed to enjoy either the taste or the smell. 

But he liked watching Rung's face as he slowly built from one finger to three, stroking in and out, finding all the places that made Rung's mouth move, soundless and sweet. That was love, wasn't it? Doing something you didn't like, and enjoying it just because of who you were doing it with?

Behind him, Starscream was progressing from silent bursts of heat to outright whining. Yes, yes, on with the show.

"There." Pharma pulled a cloth from his subspace and wiped his fingers before turning to literally lead Starscream by the spike. "There you are. Now go _very_ slowly." He held Starscream by the hips to control his rhythm, starting with just the head of the spike and then allowing him gradually, inch by inch, to sink the shaft. Rung's face was contorted, not with pain but with euphoria. Pharma wondered if it felt any different, with Starscream's new frame. The spike was basically the same, he'd only added some ridges. Did Rung's valve recognize it? Or did it feel Pharma's unique touch?

"Slowly, slowly," said Pharma. "Don't rush it, I need to take some measurements."

Starscream groaned as he tried to follow instructions. His hips kept hitching as he first sped, then forced himself to slow down. His pretty wings beat and strained back with the effort of keeping his spike under control. Primus, those wings. Pharma was almost astonished at his own artistry, the artistry that was reducing Rung to pants and moans, revealing the hedonism at his core.

"Stop," said Pharma, and Starscream whimpered as he held himself back, only the tip of his spike spreading Rung's hole. Rung's thighs were shaking, the metal dimpling a little under Rung's hands as he fought to keep himself still and not interfere with Pharma's vital work. Pharma pulled a screwdriver from his subspace and popped open a seam in Starscream's hip, tightening a connection that had rattled faintly as Starscream had thrust.

He could've waited until later but... no. It was so much better this way, watching how much Rung wanted what Pharma was giving him.

"There we are." Pharma slapped the hip panel back into place. "You can go a little faster now."

Starscream jerked forward. His spike was thick enough to rub against Rung's node as he thrust in, the fitful blue light blinking faster on every thrust. Pharma set a part of his processor to record this in high definition, complete with sensory impressions and the soaring of his spark. It was so beautiful, the lights, the movement, the frame that he'd made.

Rung echoed his thoughts—so perfect, he always knew what Pharma was thinking. "Starscream," he said, "you're so beautiful."

Starscream's hips stuttered and Pharma clucked his tongue. "Try to keep a steady pace. It's very important for the readings."

Starscream forced himself back to his even thrusts, exactly so. Pharma liked that part, the way Starscream moved as if he were a machine that Pharma had designed, not a mech at all.

What Pharma did _not_ like was that Starscream, in his concentration, bit his lip so hard that it bled.

"Stop!" barked Pharma, and this time Starscream froze with his spike entirely inside Rung's clenching valve. Rung squirmed for a moment, grinding his node against Starscream's spike, before he seemed to realize that Starscream wasn't moving. Gratifyingly, his optics went to Pharma.

Pharma got a clean cloth from his subspace and used it to wipe Starscream's lip. "I just made this!" he snapped. "Do _not_ damage it."

Starscream pulled his head back. "I didn't! I was only—"

"Hold still!" Pharma seized Starscream's chin. "Let me see."

"Darling, be good for Pharma." Rung eased back off Starscream's spike a little and stroked one of Starscream's trembling arms. "He's just worried that you've hurt yourself."

"I was _trying_ to be good," said Starscream, and Pharma stuck his thumb in Starscream's mouth to keep his jaw still. Starscream's mouth was wet and warm, but it wasn't sticky and it only smelled faintly of energon. Pharma didn't mind mouths at all.

The cut was small. It only took a few passes with his pen-welder to reseal the metal. Once he was done, Pharma gave Starscream a quick kiss just to make sure.

"Does that feel all right?" he asked.

Starscream nodded. Now that he was allowed to talk, he seemed to be drifting back into docile lust. Pharma heard a faint whirring noise, and looked down to find that Rung was gently pulsing his valve around Starscream's spike.

"Doctor Rung," said Pharma, severely. "Are you distracting my patient?"

"Is he your patient, Doctor Pharma?" asked Rung, complacently. "He looks perfectly healthy to me."

Pharma turned back to Starscream. "Frag his processor out."

Starscream jerked forward, sinking his spike deeper into Rung's valve, and Rung wailed. It was beautiful, musical, Pharma couldn't ask for better.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," moaned Rung, "it feels good, Starscream, you're so good!"

No! That wasn't what Pharma deserved to hear. "Stop," he said again.

Rung groaned, and Starscream actually made a few more shallow thrusts before Pharma pulled him back far enough to get his hands on Starscream's glistening spike. He didn't actually have anything to repair this time, so he just fiddled with it, stoking it, watching Rung's valve flex emptily. Rung was watching Pharma, in turn. He knew who it was who would decide if he was allowed to overload.

"Slow again," Pharma told Starscream, when he thought Rung was desperate enough. "I don't want you to overdo it."

Starscream slid back in. At least he was relatively biddable, especially when he was aroused. Pharma hadn't expected it when he first began courting Rung, but he actually liked Starscream. For one thing, they looked good together, and he knew Rung enjoyed watching them play with each other's wings. When Pharma finally reached his proper place at the center of Rung's life, Starscream could stay. Megatron would have to go, of course. Rung didn't have room for more than one conjunx, and Pharma was a far better choice than the blood-soaked warlord of the Decepticons. Anyway, Megatron's paint was so _boring_. It didn't look good against Pharma's colors at all.

Rung was staring into Starscream's optics, both of them panting open-mouthed, trying desperately to cool their frames.

"I need participant feedback," said Pharma, stroking one hand over Rung's forehead to refocus his attention on where it _should_ be. "How does Starscream feel?"

"Good," said Rung, eagerly.

"Be more specific," chided Pharma. "Would you like it if his spike was smaller? Be honest."

"It's the perfect size," said Rung. "Everything about him is perfect, Pharma, you did such a good job."

Starscream thrust a little faster until Pharma managed to get him back under control. Rung was urging him on with his thighs squeezing Starscream’s hips, but Pharma wasn’t ready for this to end yet.

"What about his wings?" asked Pharma, when they were back to their steady pace. "I designed them, do you like them? His shoulders?"

"Everything," gasped Rung. "Everything. Starscream? How do you feel?"

"Feels so good," groaned Starscream. "Feels so right. I didn't know a frame _could_ feel this way."

"You came to the right surgeon," said Pharma, proudly, and shot a smile at Rung – who unfortunately was too desperate and overstimulated to return it. "Now, we're almost done with testing, Starscream. Are you ready to overload?"

Starscream shook his head. Unexpected.

"I need you to overload," coaxed Pharma. "I want to make sure your transfluid is all connected up properly."

"But Rung—" Starscream tried to shift so he could get a hand on Rung's spike, but he nearly overbalanced and Pharma had to catch his elbow and put him back into place. At least he kept moving his hips in time. Rung watched all this with his mouth open and his optics blazing light, steadily losing coherence as Starscream pounded into his valve. 

"This test is for you, darling, we'll worry about Rung later." Pharma ran his hands over Starscream's wings, then tripped the special sensor he'd added to make the wings plug directly into Starscream's array. Starscream's back arched, pressing his wings into Pharma's hands even as his spike ground deep into Rung's array.

Rung arched in turn, his hands clutching at the berth covers. Pharma wanted him to look like that forever.

"That's it," murmured Pharma, stroking the sensitive titanium panels, "that's it, that's it."

Starscream came for a long time, emptying the overlarge transfluid tank that Pharma had struggled to wedge into his downsized internals. It overflowed in Rung's valve, spilling out in dribbles and streams.

Pharma pulled Starscream back slowly, revealing Rung twitching fitfully underneath him. He took a moment to admire what _he_ could do to Rung's frame. The over-bright optics, the flushed biolights. Rung's fingers creeping toward his own node. 

Pharma caught Rung's hand. "Now, Rung, we're in the middle of a test. I need you to clean off the equipment."

Rung had to reset his voicebox twice before he managed to speak. "What?" 

"The _equipment_." Pharma guided Starscream to sit on the edge of the berth, then picked Rung up and settled him on his knees on the floor. Rung's helm drifted forward to rest on Starscream's knee, and he tried to reach for his array again.

Pharma pulled his arms back. "Don't distract yourself, this is very important. Look, you've made him all messy."

Rung nodded vaguely, and his tongue darted out to lick a streak of transfluid off Starscream's spike. Starscream shivered and Pharma petted his wings again, carefully circling but not quite touching his special sensor. Pharma could watch this for hours, the way Rung graduated from small, delicate licks, to suckling on the fat head. Rung's mouth stretched wide, not quite able to take Starscream's spike even half way. It was almost better that it was happening to Starscream and not to Pharma—this way Pharma could really _appreciate_ it without being distracted by tingling of his spike getting ready to come.

He would watch it, later. He was still recording his sensory impressions, after all.

"Use your hand for the rest," said Pharma, and that was even better, Rung's dainty fingers dwarfed by the near-ludicrous size of Starscream's spike. Starscream was pressurizing again, his hips jerking in little aborted movements as Pharma and Rung held him still.

Rung's optics were almost blinding in their intensity, staring up at Starscream, staring at the frame Pharma had made for Rung's pleasure. Pharma climbed back up to the berth and pressed hard on Starscream's wings until Starscream came again, crying out as Rung swallowed.

"Messy again." Pharma clucked his tongue. "Clean him properly this time."

Rung drew off Starscream slowly, wiping off transfluid with his lips and his tongue until Starscream's spike was gleaming and slick with oral lubricant.

Rung's valve was drooling onto the floor, a little wet puddle of lubricant and transfluid on the heated tile. Pharma smiled indulgently. "Give yourself a finger," he said. "Just one."

Rung whined as he followed instructions and Starscream startled a little, looking for the sound.

"Just lie down, Starscream, you must be very tired. I'll take care of this." Pharma slid down to the floor. "Do you think you deserve two?" he asked Rung.

Rung nodded fervently and Pharma decided he ought to have some sort of reward. He'd been so patient, and Pharma loved him _so_ much. He let Rung use two fingers, and then three, and then reached down to toy with Rung's node as Rung fragged himself with those antique medic hands. He was so old and so wise and so precious and so brilliant. Pharma wanted to cradle him to his chest and keep him forever, safe as a part of him.

"Pharma," gasped Rung, which was perfect, and then: "Starscream," which was... acceptable.

"Mhm," said Pharma. "Doesn't Starscream look gorgeous?"

"So gorgeous," said Rung, "so _small_."

Starscream made an embarrassing but endearing noise and covered his face with his hands.

"Everywhere but where it counts," said Pharma, and reached up to run his free hand along Starscream's half-pressurized spike. He brought it back to flatten against Rung's chest, feeling the flare and pop of his spark through its window as he rubbed Rung's node. "Just overload for me, love, that's right, that's right. Overload now."

Rung clenched down on his own fingers with a wail, Pharma gentling him through the overload with a light touch and soothing words. It was the perfect picture. Pharma stopped recording there. Nothing could rise to that height.

Afterward Rung flopped onto his side, and looked up at Pharma with a little too much shrewd awareness for how hard he'd overloaded.

"What are you thinking?" asked Pharma, a little nervous of the answer. But he couldn’t not. He always wanted to know what Rung was thinking.

"Your panel's open," said Rung.

Pharma looked down. Yes, there was his—more modest—spike, and below that the plush folds of his valve, already slickened with lubricant. Pharma frowned at his array. It was always causing problems, marring the aesthetic he was trying to cultivate. Ratchet had always expected him to _use_ it, didn't understand that there was a time and a place for everything and sometimes Pharma didn't _need_ his array to—

Rung hauled himself up into the berth, where he stroked Starscream’s thighs while he looked down at Pharma. "Would you like an overload?" he asked. "Or would you like to just come up to the berth and lie with us?"

Pharma hesitated. 

"You could test drive Starscream's valve," offered Rung. "Would you like that, Starscream?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Starscream. “I’m all wet.”

Rung smiled to himself. “I think that would be very lovely to watch."

Yes. Pharma liked that idea, taking the frame he himself had built, playing out a scene for Rung's pleasure. He accepted the hand Rung offered to help him up, careful not to put too much pressure on Rung and overbalance him.

"You did something to my wings," said Starscream muzzily.

"Yes," said Pharma. "And if you ask me very nicely, I'll tell you what. Now open up for me, won't you, dear?"

\---

“Thank you,” whispered Rung, later, when the lights were turned off and Starscream was snoring beside them. Something was clearly wrong with his recharge protocol, he was making so much noise. Pharma would have to fix that later.

“For what?” murmured Pharma. He was still thrilling over being allowed to spend the night, though it meant that in a few hours he’d probably be awakened by Megatron stumbling into the room and shoving his way into the berth. It was worth it to spend some time watching Rung and imagining that this was _their_ berth, that Starscream was the guest.

“For being such a good friend to Starscream,” said Rung. “For understanding him. He looks so happy… I truly appreciate the effort you’re making. I know we’re only casual, and this—this is so much more than most casual partners would do.”

Pharma smiled and stole a kiss. Rung’s lips were so soft under his, half-parted so Pharma got only the barest taste of Rung’s mouth. “It’s not an effort,” he said, when he drew back. “Not when it’s for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments deeply appreciated - you can also share this fic on [DW](https://neveralarch.dreamwidth.org/106573.html), [twitter](https://twitter.com/neveralarch/status/1255966182307434502), or [tumblr](https://neveralarch.tumblr.com/post/616856715646959616/blueprints-neveralarch-the-transformers-idw) :)


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